


A Million in One

by Bookreader525



Category: Superstore (TV)
Genre: F/M, everything's a mess yikes, finished it after aftermath aired, started writing it before aftermath aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-28 21:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14457996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookreader525/pseuds/Bookreader525
Summary: Amy resists slamming her hand on the table. "She said 'I love you' and you dumped her?""Yep. That… that was my immediate response, yes." He twirls his chopsticks through the food. She opens her mouth, then he goes, "Listen, I… I need time to process, still. A lot has happened.""And you don't want to talk about it right now?"(two-parter post-3x21)





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this was originally gonna go in a very different direction, but after seeing aftermath twice, i restructured it into a two-chapter thing. hope ya'll like it!

If the world were an ideal place, Amy would be driving a Porsche and she would park that Porsche in the driveway of her multi-million-dollar McMansion. She'd have hallways of closets to fill with clothes and shoes and other important shit. She'd have a picture-perfect marriage and a daughter who not only bothered to call her often, but would actually live with her all the time.

But hell, even if she had all those things in that ideal world, she knows,  _knows_ , she would still be working at Cloud 9.

Because god forbid she skips one day of the Jonah Simms treatment.

Instead she putters up to work in the rusty Honda. The car gives a sigh of relief when she shuts off the engine. Right as she's getting out, she recognizes Jonah's plain gray sedan roll into a space a few feet away. She stands frozen as he and Kelly hop out.

Her tongue flops for a moment like a fish out of water. Then she goes, "Guess somebody slept over last night, huh?" She pairs it with a strained laugh.

"Oh, um." Jonah scratches behind his head. "Well."

Kelly erupts in giggles. She reminds Amy of a friend who Emma had over once— small, blonde, and annoying. Always laughing at something. "Maybe," she says.

"We watched a documentary," Jonah blurts out.

Amy dips her head. "And listened to a podcast on the way here?"

He falters. "Y- yeah, we…"

She doesn't stay to hear the rest. Maybe that wasn't even all that was said. She can only pick up pieces of conversation anymore. Her mind is wandering like a lost toddler in the store.

* * *

 

Amy walks in on them later, making out in the empty break room. She would have thought Jonah'd be smarter. They're kissing gently, his pants unzipped and her stupid cold shoulder top disheveled. Like a couple of guilt-stricken teenagers, they glance over at her with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

"Next time I'll write you both up," she tells them before turning around and marching out.

* * *

 

One fragmented, cruel part of her imagines him running after her in the parking lot or in the back hallway of the store.

"No, Amy, wait."

She would keep walking.

"Please."

His awkwardness gone, voice smooth as silk, his hair sweaty and springing free from the gel, his plaid button-up not buttoned up all the way for once, his eyes pleading, his posture submissive.

What would he say then? She muses as she stocks tissue boxes. Maybe he would say he's sorry? Sorry for the months, no, years, of angst and back-and-forth turmoil.  _Will they? Won't they?_ Their coworkers chattering like pigeons, watching their every move— ooh, an accidental brush of arms, they must be soulmates.

And watching him with other women. Naomi, Kristen, Kelly. Naomi was fleeting. Kristen was too smart and unreachable. Kelly was too dumb and too reachable. Amy liked to think of them as hurdles. There she was, standing at the finish line, but he kept tripping on the hurdles, face-planting in the dusty track. "Just try again," she would say. "One more time. You'll reach me."

She had her hurdles too. Adam, Tate, Alex. But they felt less like hurdles and more like pawns on a chess board. If she played them right, she would win. But she's been making all the wrong moves.

When Jonah approaches her later that day, she expects he's sputtering apologies like a rusty sprinkler, shooting out a "sorry" then an "I didn't mean…"

But he's not. He's silent. Her eyes land on him, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Hey…" he mumbles. "How's it goin'?"

She blinks at him. Kelly must have gotten to him. Maybe stupidity can be spread through saliva. "Oh, great," she chuckles. "I'm fine. How about you?"

"Good. I'm good." He leans back on his heels, then falls forward again. "I… hope you didn't see too much of that."

"No, not at all. Just her hand halfway down your…" She trails off.

"Down my?" he prompts.

"Pants," she says. "I was gonna say pants. But. Yeah. It doesn't matter. Listen, I gotta go somewhere."

The tissue boxes can stock themselves, she decides.

* * *

 

When they break up, it's less of a happy surprise than Amy expected it would be. It feels more like a dull shock, her heart throbbing harder against her ribs for a few seconds. Then it's gone.

The rumor started as a small flame, then spread like wildfire through the store. When the scalding revelation reaches her, she only lifts her eyebrows at Cheyenne and dips her head respectfully. "Wow. That's… a shame."

"Yeah, he was the one who ended it. Broke up with her last night, standing next to her car and everything. He had to take an Uber home, she was his ride here. Justine said she saw her slap him, but I dunno, it's Justine, so she probably made it up—"

"I have to go," Amy interrupts her. "But yeah, great story. Thanks for sharing. I just have to go." She's out of the break room before Cheyenne can blink.

* * *

 

She's found herself leaving places more often than she goes to them; so it's satisfying when she pulls up to the P.F. Chang's and recognizes his car in the lot. She breezes past the hostess and finds him at a back table, munching miserably through his third bowl of noodles.

His eyes dart up toward her, then immediately flick back down again to the noodles. "What did you do?" she demands.

He doesn't answer for a while. He takes his time chewing and swallowing. Then he says, "I did the right thing. She told me she loved me, but I did the right thing."

Amy resists slamming her hand on the table. "She said 'I love you' and you dumped her?"

"Yep. That… that was my immediate response, yes." He twirls his chopsticks through the food. She's never seen more nimble fingers. She opens her mouth, then he goes, "Listen, I… I need time to process, still. A lot has happened."

"And you don't want to talk about it right now?"

He shrugs one shoulder. His shirt hangs limply off his lean frame. "Not really, no. I'd rather just be alone with my noodles right now."

"Okay." She pauses. "Do you… want me to go?"

He nods.

She's angry, but she lets the anger fizzle out slowly inside her, working its way from her head to her toes, fizzling like a sparkler, until it's gone with a final spark.

She sits in her car and tries not to slam her head against the wheel repeatedly. Back in the Cloud 9 parking lot. She reminds herself of the sparkler analogy— anger's gone dark, gone away, it's not welcome back— but it doesn't work. She squeezes the steering wheel until her knuckles are bone white.

She walks inside and goes right to Glenn's office. "If I don't want to quit," she says, awkwardly perching her aching hands on the chair before his desk, "or can't quit, can I take a sabbatical?"

Glenn blinks up at her like a confused puppy. "Where is this coming from, Amy? I'm sorry, but… you know I can't—"

"Okay." She lets out a breath slowly. "I need a day off, Glenn. Can you give me that? Please?" It's tomorrow, and god she needs it, she needs tomorrow.

He hesitates, mouth hanging open, then his head bobs up and down.

* * *

 

She drives, thinking of Jonah and Kelly and the noodles and Adam and this baby she can't have, shouldn't have, it's all just too much and she can't, she can't—

When Adam answers, his voice crackling into her ear from the phone nestled uncomfortably between her shoulder blade and cheek, she gives him a cheerful hello.

"What is it?"

She gives the gas pedal a few exuberant pumps, and the Honda rattles down the highway going eighty. "I'm getting an abortion."


	2. after

Amy knows she could escape if she wanted to. Jonah was wrong.

She stands at the curb, mid-May heat pressing down on her shoulders with the weight of a million problems unsolved. She tilts backward then forward, toes tapping the road, heels bouncing off the overgrown grass.

Cloud 9 isn't a prison— it's a shelter. A messed up and strange shelter, yes, but it's a shelter. People come, people stay, people go. She chose to stay. It was her choice, she tells herself.

When the familiar car pulls up in front of her, she sighs, practically collapsing inside and letting the air conditioner's breeze hit her fully in the face.

Dina was busy, something with one of her birds being sick and needing a visit to the vet. And god, she was the only other person who Amy would want to pick her up from the clinic.

Instead, Jonah's here and he's not exactly smiling. It's more like a grimace, that strange thing he does where the corners of his lips are turned up but the middle part of his mouth sags. His eyes are piercing, filled to the brim with something she can't place. Probably sympathy, or residual anger. She feels both of those towards herself and only one of those towards him.

"Well," he says, setting it back into drive and coasting along to a stop sign. "Uh, how'd it— how'd it go?"

She slouches and glances out her window. "It was… just… listen, Jonah, we don't have to do this."

"Do what?"

"The whole 'awkward conversation in the car' thing, with all the forced laughs and uncomfortable silences. Let's just sit and… listen to music or something." With that she reaches forward to hit a button on the console.

" _… so all this has proved that the crisis in our country hasn't improved in the slightest—_ "

She turns it off. "Podcast. Right." Slowly her arm retreats until it's tucked tightly under her other one. "Fucking podcasts."

"I do have a radio," he points out, but he lets the rest of his objection die before it can make it past his gritted teeth. His brain is working in overdrive; she can tell as she eyes him in her peripheral. His jaw is working, the stubble on his right cheek rippling while his fingers squeeze the steering wheel like a stress ball.

"I was kicked out," he says. "Of the apartment. By Kelly."

She plays with a stray thread on her blouse. "Wow."

"I'm back at Garrett's place, but it's… like, not the same as it was before. He's been acting weird lately. Like, he's shut off from me."

"You're talking about the Garrett we work with, right? He's always shut off."

"Yeah, I know, but he's worse than usual. I'm worried about him."

Amy chuckles. "That's so sweet that you're worried about him." He looks over at her. "So nice." She's prodding at it again. Prodding at their argument in the break room, pushing and pinching it. It's not dead, just asleep. It took her some forty-eight hours to realize it.

Jonah leans an elbow against the armrest and shakes his head. "Last I checked, you reject any concern I have for you. I mean, sure, you want people to- to have sympathy for you, but all hell breaks loose when you're worried about by somebody. Oh, and you're welcome for the ride, by the way."

"I never asked for anyone…" She tries, she genuinely tries, but then her rebuttal trails off into oblivion. She can practically imagine her words getting sucked into the black hole in her mind. "Dammit, Jonah, I… w- we both care about each other. Denying it is too aggravating, so let's stop doing that. Okay?"

He rolls his shoulders. "Okay." Pause. "By care, do you mean—?"

"I'm not here in this car with you to define words. What I want to do," she takes a breath, "is apologize."

"Me too," he says. Exhale.

She doesn't want to think about the things she shouldn't have done. And when she's in that mindset, the words roll off her tongue smooth as silk.

"I should have waited until you weren't in a relationship to kiss you. I should have waited until I wasn't pregnant with another guy's baby to kiss you. I should have let you have that conversation with me when you were ready."

His brows knit together. "I… I should have been more supportive of you. I should have been more willing to talk about the kiss. I should have broken up with Kelly a long, long time ago."

She can hear how loud his exhale is, the way the air whistles through his teeth with the intensity of sweet relief.

"Why didn't you?" Amy asks him softly.

"Break up with her sooner?" He narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue. "I… saw what I had in front of me, I guess. She was ideal for me, no baggage, sweet, funny, pretty. She was the easy route."

He stops after that. Amy closes her eyes. The easy route isn't easy if you're digging yourself into a deeper grave with every step. The easy route isn't easy at all.

Then he goes, "I tried with her. I wanted to love her." Then he stops again.

The car rolls to a halt. They're in front of her house, but she doesn't get out. Her feet are glued to the floorboard and her heart is trembling.

Her fingers close on the door handle.

"So if we're not defining anything yet, I hope you don't mind if I—?"

His lips graze hers, and they tease each other for a moment, feeling the warmth of their mingling breaths on their noses. He's peppermint and she's Caesar salad dressing. When they connect, it's so gentle it's like barely touching at all. It doesn't last long, but it lasts.

"Maybe some time," she says. She doesn't define "some time," but he understands. His head tilts downward, but his gaze is still on her. "Just some time," she repeats. "That's all I need. I promise."

She hops out of the car and within a minute she's sitting inside on the couch.

Dina's with her birds. Adam's so disappointed he can't speak to her. Emma's with him. Kelly's probably fuming while throwing the shards of a documentary DVD out the window.

Jonah's talking to her again, his voice rumbling over the phone line as he drives home from her place. She leans back on the couch and weaves her fingers through her hair. Maybe one day he'll come inside, shower her with forehead kisses, pet that dog she'll adopt from the shelter, leave his jars of preservative-free peanut butter in her cupboard, and bicker with her about intelligent politics while  _The Bachelor_  plays on the TV in front of them, forgotten. He's a million things all pressed tightly into one skinny man, and she only knows a handful of those things.

One day he'll come inside and stay a while. Sooner rather than later, she thinks.

"So I'll see you at work tomorrow," he says. It should be a question, it's structured like one, but he knows.

"Yeah," she says. "I'll see you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can't wait to see this get ruined by the finale tomorrow :)
> 
> anyway, thank you all for reading! i appreciate your comments, kudos, and love. let's hope whatever premieres tomorrow doesn't completely shatter us!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
